


Ghost Stories

by DontSpeakOfTheAttic



Series: Rise [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe, How Do I Tag, Poe AU, Rise AU, So of course I had to make this, Spooky campfire stories, set up for a larger work, the poes are my favorite enemy and I'm sad that they aren't in BotW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 04:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18189572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontSpeakOfTheAttic/pseuds/DontSpeakOfTheAttic
Summary: If there is one thing that never changes, from the farthest reaches of the Gerudo Desert to Death Mountain, no matter how much time passes… it’s telling stories. The simple act of sitting around a fire and sharing near-forgotten tales while the shadows dance around you.





	Ghost Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I've risen from the grave to post this. So some of you may know that the Poes are these ghost-like enemies that exist in the LoZ universe. Personally my favorite version of these are the ones found in Twilight Princess. They're one of my favorite enemies, and I'm kind of sad that they aren't in BotW. So.. basically, I started to imagine an AU where they did, and I ran with it. This is just a brief little intro into the world I'm creating, which I've taken to calling the Rise AU. I'll update it whenever I have the time. I really hope you guys enjoy it!

If there is one thing that never changes, from the farthest reaches of the Gerudo Desert to Death Mountain, no matter how much time passes… it’s telling stories. The simple act of sitting around a fire and sharing near-forgotten tales while the shadows dance around you. 

In Kakariko Village, that’s just what’s happening. Three girls sit around a fire, a pair of sisters and their friend, the daughter of a trader passing through the village. The oldest girl has her hands clasped together, and she smiles as she prepares to tell her story. She’d already assured the sisters it would be scarier than anything they’d heard before, and they believed her. Traders told the best tales. 

The story begins in the past, a history shrouded in twilight, with few records remaining to detail exactly what went on in that time. It tells of faceless creatures made of darkness, of living souls reduced to spirits long before their time. And, amongst all this, it tells of the Poes. 

Ten feet tall and wearing blood-soaked robes, the Poes roamed the desert. They couldn’t be seen by the naked eye, their lanterns the only sign they were there at all. And if you were close enough to see the tell-tale blue glow of those lanterns…. Well, you were as good as gone. Because if you were that close, then they knew you were there. And in an instant you would be sucked into that haunting blue light, your soul forever trapped within.

The story also tells of another version, more gruesome than before. It tells of living dolls with stitched on smiles and scythes sharp enough to rip the soul from your body. It tells of twisted, childlike laughter echoing from the lantern that anchors them down. 

It tells of fallen hylians, who clung to life with such hatred that their spirits lingered, mutated into a gastly remnant of what they once were. 

 

It used to be said that the last of these monsters vanished with the twilight of that time. That the Hero vanquished every last one of them, so that they could no longer torment the living and add their souls to their collection. But if you know where to go, you can hear whispers. Whispers of times long past, of monsters long thought dead. You can hear the warnings to stay out of the desert at night, the fearful claims that the chill that sets in isn’t  _ natural _ .  

And if you ignore those warnings, you’ll begin to feel it yourself. 

It starts with a chill that seeps into your very bones, unnatural and paralyzing. Then the fog rolls in, so thick you can barely see a foot in front of you. And then…. You’ll hear it. The clanking of metal on metal, the squeaking of something rusted swinging back and forth, the hollow laughter. And as those sounds draw closer, a light will come into focus. Pale blue and swinging back and forth, in time to the creaking metal sound. At that point, your only hope is to run as fast as you can in the opposite direction, and hope that you can find your way out of the fog. Because if you linger long enough that the lantern’s owner comes into view…

You belong to the Poe.


End file.
